General Observations on the Fall of the Roman Empire in the
West

by Edward Gibbon

The Greeks, after their country had been reduced into a
province, imputed the triumphs of Rome, not to the merit, but to
the FORTUNE, of the republic. The inconstant goddess, who so
blindly distributes and resumes her favours, had now consented
(such was the language of envious flattery) to resign her wings,
to descend from her globe, and to fix her firm and immutable
throne on the banks of the Tiber.[1] A wiser Greek, who has
composed, with a philosophic spirit, the memorable history of his
own times, deprived his countrymen of this vain and delusive
comfort by opening to their view the deep foundations of the
greatness of Rome.[2] The
fidelity of the citizens to each other, and to the state, was
confirmed by the habits of education and the prejudices of
religion. Honour, as well as virtue, was the principle of the
republic; the ambitious citizens laboured to deserve the solemn
glories of a triumph; and the ardour of the Roman youth was
kindled into active emulation, as often as they beheld the
domestic images of their ancestors.[3] The temperate struggles
of the patricians and plebeians had finally established the firm
and equal balance of the constitution; which united the freedom
of popular assemblies with the authority and wisdom of a
senate-and the executive powers of a regal magistrate. When the
consul displayed the standard of the republic, each citizen bound
himself, by the obligation of

an oath, to draw his sword in the cause of his country, till
he had discharged the sacred duty by a military service of ten
years. This wise institution continually poured into the field
the rising generations of freemen and soldiers; and their numbers
were reinforced by the warlike and populous states of Italy, who,
after a brave resistance, had yielded to the valour, and embraced
the alliance, of the Romans. The sage historian, who excited the
virtue of the younger Scipio and beheld the ruin of Carthage,[4] has accurately described
their military system; their levies, arms, exercises,
subordination, marches, encampments; and the invincible legion,
superior in active strength to the Macedonian phalanx of Philip
and Alexander. From these institutions of peace and war, Polybius
has deduced the spirit and success of a people incapable of fear
and impatient of repose. The ambitious design of conquest, which
might have been defeated by the seasonable conspiracy of mankind,
was attempted and achieved; and the perpetual violation of
justice was maintained by the political virtues of prudence and
courage. The arms of the republic, sometimes vanquished in
battle, always victorious in war, advanced with rapid steps to
the Euphrates, the Danube, the Rhine, and the Ocean; and the
images of gold, or silver, or brass, that might serve to
represent the nations and their kings, were successively broken
by the iron monarchy of Rome.[5]

The rise of a city, which swelled into an Empire, may
deserve, as a singular prodigy, the reflection of a philosophic
mind. But the decline of Rome was the natural and inevitable
effect of immoderate greatness. Prosperity ripened the principle
of decay; the causes of destruction multiplied with the extent of
conquest; and, as soon as time or accident had removed the
artificial supports, the stupendous fabric yielded to the
pressure of its own weight. The story of its ruin is simple and
obvious; and, instead of inquiring why the Roman empire was
destroyed, we should rather be surprised that it had subsisted so
long. The victorious legions, who, in distant wars, acquired the
vices of strangers and mercenaries, first oppressed the freedom
of the republic, and afterwards violated the majesty of the
purple. The emperors, anxious for their personal safety and the
public peace, were reduced to the base expedient of corrupting
the discipline which rendered them alike formidable to their
sovereign and to the enemy; the vigour of the military government
was relaxed, and finally dissolved, by the partial institutions
of Constantine; and the Roman world was overwhelmed by a deluge
of Barbarians.

The decay of Rome has been frequently ascribed to the
translation of the seat of empire; but this history has already
shewn that the powers of government were divided rather
than removed. The throne of Constantinople was erected in
the East; while the West was still possessed by a series of
emperors who held their residence in Italy and claimed their
equal inheritance of the legions and provinces. This dangerous
novelty impaired the strength, and fomented the vices, of a
double reign; the instruments of an oppressive and arbitrary
system were multiplied; and a vain emulation of luxury, not of
merit, was introduced and supported between the degenerate
successors of Theodosius. Extreme distress, which unites the
virtue of a free people, embitters the factions of a declining
monarchy. The hostile favourites of Arcadius and Honorius
betrayed the republic to its common enemies; and the Byzantine
court beheld with indifference, perhaps with pleasure, the
disgrace of Rome, the misfortunes of Italy, and the loss of the
West. Under the succeeding reigns, the alliance of the two
empires was restored; but the aid of the Oriental Romans was
tardy, doubtful, and ineffectual; and the national schism of the
Greeks and Latins was enlarged by the perpetual difference of
language and manners, of interest, and even of religion. Yet the
salutary event approved in some measure the judgment of
Constantine. During a long period of decay, his impregnable city
repelled the victorious armies of Barbarians, protected the
wealth of Asia, and commanded, both in peace and war, the
important straits which connect the Euxine and Mediterranean
seas. The foundation of Constantinople more essentially
contributed to the preservation of the East than to the ruin of
the West.

As the happiness of a future life is the great object
of religion, we may hear, without surprise or scandal, that the
introduction, or at least the abuse, of Christianity had some
influence on the decline and fall of the Roman empire. The clergy
successfully preached the doctrines of patience and
pusillanimity; the active virtues of society were discouraged;
and the last remains of the military spirit were buried in the
cloister; a large portion of public and private wealth was
consecrated to the specious demands of charity and devotion; and
the soldiers' pay was lavished on the useless multitudes of both
sexes, who could only plead the merits of abstinence and
chastity. Faith, zeal, curiosity, and the more earthly passions
of malice and ambition kindled the flame of theological discord;
the church, and even the state, were distracted by religious
factions, whose conflicts were sometimes bloody, and always
implacable; the attention of the emperors was diverted from camps
to synods; the Roman world was oppressed by a new species of
tyranny; and the persecuted sects became the secret enemies of
their country. Yet party-spirit, however pernicious or absurd, is
a principle of union as well as of dissension. The bishops, from
eighteen hundred pulpits, inculcated the duty of passive
obedience to a lawful and orthodox sovereign; their frequent
assemblies, and perpetual correspondence, maintained the
communion of distant churches: and the benevolent temper of the
gospel was strengthened, though confined, by the spiritual
alliance of the Catholics. The sacred indolence of the monks was
devoutly embraced by a servile and effeminate age; but, if
superstition had not afforded a decent retreat, the same vices
would have tempted the unworthy Romans to desert, from baser
motives, the standard of the republic. Religious precepts are
easily obeyed, which indulge and sanctify the natural
inclinations of their votaries; but the pure and genuine
influence of Christianity may be traced in its beneficial, though
imperfect, effects on the Barbarian proselytes of the North. If
the decline of the Roman empire was hastened by the conversion of
Constantine, his victorious religion broke the violence of the
fall, and mollified the ferocious temper of the conquerors.

This awful revolution may be usefully applied to the
instruction of the present age. It is the duty of a patriot to
prefer and promote the exclusive interest and glory of his native
country; but a philosopher may be permitted to enlarge his views,
and to consider Europe as one great republic, whose various
inhabitants have attained almost the same level of politeness and
cultivation. The balance of power will continue to fluctuate, and
the prosperity of our own or the neighbouring kingdoms may be
alternately exalted or depressed; but these partial events cannot
essentially injure our general state of happiness, the system of
arts, and laws, and manners, which so advantageously distinguish,
above the rest of mankind, the Europeans and their colonies. The
savage nations of the globe are the common enemies of civilized
society; and we may inquire with anxious curiosity, whether
Europe is still threatened with a repetition of those calamities
which formerly oppressed the arms and institutions of Rome.
Perhaps the same reflections will illustrate the fall of that
mighty empire, and explain the probable causes of our actual
security.

I. The Romans were ignorant of the extent of their danger,
and the number of their enemies. Beyond the Rhine and Danube, the
northern countries of Europe and Asia were filled with
innumerable tribes of hunters and shepherds, poor, voracious, and
turbulent; bold in arms, and impatient to ravish the fruits of
industry. The Barbarian world was agitated by the rapid impulse
of war; and the peace of Gaul or Italy was shaken by the distant
revolutions of China. The Huns, who fled before a victorious
enemy, directed their march towards the West; and the torrent was
swelled by the gradual accession of captives and allies. The
flying tribes who yielded to the Huns assumed in their turn the
spirit of conquest; the endless column of Barbarians pressed on
the Roman empire with accumulated weight; and, if the foremost
were destroyed, the vacant space was instantly replenished by new
assailants. Such formidable emigrations can no longer issue from
the North; and the long repose, which has been imputed to the
decrease of population, is the happy consequence of the progress
of arts and agriculture. Instead of some rude villages, thinly
scattered among its woods and morasses, Germany now produces a
list of two thousand three hundred walled towns; the Christian
kingdoms of Denmark, Sweden, and Poland, have been successively
established; and the Hanse merchants, with the Teutonic knights,
have extended their colonies along the coast of the Baltic, as
far as the Gulf of Finland. From the Gulf of Finland to the
Eastern Ocean, Russia now assumes the form of a powerful and
civilized empire. The plough, the loom, and the forge, are
introduced on the banks of the Volga, the Oby, and the Lena; and
the fiercest of the Tartar hordes have been taught to tremble and
obey. The reign of independent Barbarism is now contracted to a
narrow span; and the remnant of Calmucks or Uzbecks, whose forces
may be almost numbered, cannot seriously excite the apprehensions
of the great republic of Europe.[6] Yet this apparent
security should not tempt us to forget that new enemies, and
unknown dangers, may possibly arise from some obscure
people, scarcely visible in the map of the world. The Arabs or
Saracens, who spread their conquests from India to Spain, had
languished in poverty and contempt, till Mahomet breathed into
those savage bodies the soul of enthusiasm.

II. The empire of Rome was firmly established by the
singular and perfect coalition of its members. The subject
nations, resigning the hope, and even the wish, of independence,
embraced the character of Roman citizens; and the provinces of
the West were reluctantly torn by the Barbarians from the bosom
of their mother-country.[7] But this union was
purchased by the loss of national freedom and military spirit;
and the servile provinces, destitute of life and motion, expected
their safety from the mercenary troops and governors, who were
directed by the orders of a distant court. The happiness of an
hundred millions depended on the personal merit of one or two
men, perhaps children, whose minds were corrupted by education,
luxury, and despotic power. The deepest wounds were inflicted on
the empire during the minorities of the sons and grandsons of
Theodosius; and, after those incapable princes seemed to attain
the age of manhood, they abandoned the church to the bishops, the
state to the eunuchs, and the provinces to the Barbarians. Europe
is now divided into twelve powerful, though unequal, kingdoms,
three respectable commonwealths, and a variety of smaller, though
independent, states; the chances of royal and ministerial talents
are multiplied, at least with the number of its rulers; and a
Julian, or Semiramis, may reign in the North, while Arcadius and
Honorius again slumber on the thrones of the South.[7a] The abuses of tyranny
are restrained by the mutual influence of fear and shame;
republics have acquired order and stability; monarchies have
imbibed the principles of freedom, or, at least, of moderation;
and some sense of honour and justice is introduced into the most
defective constitutions by the general manners of the times. In
peace, the progress of knowledge and industry is accelerated by
the emulation of so many active rivals: in war, the European
forces are exercised by temperate and undecisive contests. If a
savage conqueror should issue from the deserts of Tartary, he
must repeatedly vanquish the robust peasants of Russia, the
numerous armies of Germany, the gallant nobles of France, and the
intrepid freemen of Britain; who, perhaps, might confederate for
their common defence. Should the victorious Barbarians carry
slavery and desolation as far as the Atlantic Ocean, ten thousand
vessels would transport beyond their pursuit the remains of
civilized society; and Europe would revive and flourish in the
American world which is already filled with her colonies and
institutions.[8]

III. Cold, poverty, and a life of danger and fatigue,
fortify the strength and courage of Barbarians. In every age they
have oppressed the polite and peaceful nations of China, India,
and Persia, who neglected, and still neglect, to counterbalance
these natural powers by the resources of military art. The
warlike states of antiquity, Greece, Macedonia, and Rome,
educated a race of soldiers; exercised their bodies, disciplined
their courage, multiplied their forces by regular evolutions, and
converted the iron which they possessed into strong and
serviceable weapons. But this superiority insensibly declined
with their laws and manners; and the feeble policy of Constantine
and his successors armed and instructed, for the ruin of the
empire, the rude valour of the Barbarian mercenaries. The
military art has been changed by the invention of gunpowder;
which enables man to command the two most powerful agents of
nature, air and fire. Mathematics, chymistry, mechanics,
architecture, have been applied to the service of war; and the
adverse parties oppose to each other the most elaborate modes of
attack and of defence. Historians may indignantly observe that
the preparations of a siege would found and maintain a
flourishing colony;[9] yet
we cannot be displeased that the subversion of a city should be a
work of cost and difficulty, or that an industrious people should
be protected by those arts, which survive and supply the decay of
military virtue. Cannon and fortifications now form an
impregnable barrier against the Tartar horse; and Europe is
secure from any future irruption of Barbarians; since, before
they can conquer, they must cease to be barbarous. Their gradual
advances in the science of war would always be accompanied, as we
may learn from the example of Russia, with a proportionable
improvement in the arts of peace and civil policy; and they
themselves must deserve a place among the polished nations whom
they subdue.

Should these speculations be found doubtful or fallacious,
there still remains a more humble source of comfort and hope. The
discoveries of ancient and modern navigators, and the domestic
history, or tradition, of the most enlightened nations, represent
the human savage, naked both in mind and body, and
destitute of laws, of arts, of ideas, and almost of language.[10]

From this abject condition, perhaps the primitive and
universal state of man, he has gradually arisen to command the
animals, to fertilise the earth, to traverse the ocean, and to
measure the heavens. His progress in the improvement and exercise
of his mental and corporeal faculties[11] has been irregular and
various, infinitely slow in the beginning, and increasing by
degrees with redoubled velocity; ages of laborious ascent have
been followed by a moment of rapid downfall; and the several
climates of the globe have felt the vicissitudes of light and
darkness. Yet the experience of four thousand years should
enlarge our hopes, and diminish our apprehensions; we cannot
determine to what height the human species may aspire in their
advances towards perfection; but it may safely be presumed that
no people, unless the face of nature is changed, will relapse
into their original barbarism. The improvements of society may be
viewed under a threefold aspect. 1. The poet or philosopher
illustrates his age and country by the efforts of a single
mind; but these superior powers of reason or fancy are rare and
spontaneous productions, and the genius of Homer, or Cicero, or
Newton, would excite less admiration, if they could be created by
the will of a prince or the lessons of a preceptor. 2. The
benefits of law and policy, of trade and manufactures, of arts
and sciences, are more solid and permanent; and many
individuals may be qualified, by education and discipline, to
promote, in their respective stations, the interest of the
community. But this general order is the effect of skill and
labour; and the complex machinery may be decayed by time or
injured by violence. 3. Fortunately for mankind, the more
useful, or, at least, more necessary arts can be performed
without superior talents, or national subordination; without the
powers of one or the union of many. Each village,
each family, each individual, must always possess both ability
and inclination to perpetuate the use of fire[12] and of metals; the
propagation and service of domestic animals; the methods of
hunting and fishing; the rudiments of navigation; the imperfect
cultivation of corn or other nutritive grain; and the simple
practice of the mechanic trades. Private genius and public
industry may be extirpated; but these hardy plants survive the
tempest, and strike an everlasting root into the most
unfavourable soil. The splendid days of Augustus and Trajan were
eclipsed by a cloud of ignorance; and the Barbarians subverted
the laws and palaces of Rome. But the scythe, the invention or
emblem of Saturn,[13]
still continued annually to mow the harvests of Italy: and the
human feasts of the Laestrygons[14] have never been renewed
on the coast of Campania.

Since the first discovery of the arts, war, commerce, and
religious zeal have diffused, among the savages of the Old and
New World, those inestimable gifts: they have been successively
propagated; they can never be lost. We may therefore acquiesce in
the pleasing conclusion that every age of the world has
increased, and still increases, the real wealth, the happiness,
the knowledge, and perhaps the virtue, of the human race.[15]